


The Brownstone Invasion

by lulebell



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lulebell/pseuds/lulebell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan is on the case when Sherlock suspects that Clyde has been kidnapped from the brownstone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Brownstone Invasion

“Watson! Watson!” 

Morning at the brownstone was like any other: Joan’s door burst open, revealing an excited Sherlock, bouncing with anticipation. When he first invaded her room, she was startled by her sudden and uninvited guest but now, so accustomed to him and his way, she barely opened her eyes at him. 

Rolling over, Joan greeted Sherlock with a muffled “mmph” and buried her head beneath her pillows. A burst of sunlight flooded her dark room as Sherlock pushed aside each curtain and Joan clutched at her pillows when Sherlock plucked each one from out of her hands. She tried to pull her blankets over head when he finally ripped the blankets from off of her body and threw them on the floor. 

“Watson. I have no time for your usual morning delays. This is an emergency.”

Reluctantly, Joan sat up, facing her bedroom wall and with her back to Sherlock, fighting off the anger that flooded her; it was too early to fight. She half expected a pile of clothes to be thrown at her, but he stood as still as Sherlock could stand and waited, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked with a hoarse voice, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. 

She could feel Sherlock vibrating from where he stood. Joan turned her head and saw him clenching his fists in an effort to remain calm. 

“Clyde...” he trailed off, his voice shaking. 

“Clyde what?” 

“I believe that sometime in the night, our pet was kidnapped, or more appropriately, tortoise-napped.” 

“What?” Joan asked flatly, turning her whole self around but still not bothering to get out of bed. 

Any amount of calm Sherlock had suddenly dissipated and he jumped back away from her bed screaming: “Our home was invaded last night as we slept - as you insisted that we do - and now Clyde has gone missing!” 

Joan finally pulled herself off of her bed. She didn’t bother with clothes, nor did she bother fixing her hair. He had seen her in her pajamas many times before and this time probably wouldn’t be the last. 

She pushed past him and headed to the top of the stairs. 

“Did you hear anything last night?” 

“No. Perhaps you weren’t listening when I said that I was asleep because of you --”  
Joan waved her hand, silencing him immediately. “How did the kidnapper --” 

“Tortoise-napper.” 

“ _Tortoise-napper_ get in?” She walked down the stairs to the living area. “I don’t see any broken windows,” she ran her fingers over the front door. “The lock hasn’t been picked.” She walked back towards the living area. 

“Obviously we’re looking for someone who’s adept in invisibility, who can enter a building in an unconventional way, undetected and possibly suspended from ropes!” 

Joan stared at Sherlock with a look of incredulity. “Because you’ve recently made enemies with a ninja?” 

“Several, in the years before I met you, actually.” 

She mentally filed the ninja suspect under ‘potential’ and continued to survey the brownstone. 

A map of the city sprawled over the floor, not unlike the one Sherlock built during the city’s major snow storm. Where Clyde’s debut role had been that of an ambulance, here he played the role of a renegade fire truck. Clyde played a pivotal role in solving their latest case, providing Sherlock with the key to solving their latest mystery, a feat that earned Clyde high praise and a series of loud compliments, much to the chagrin of Sherlock’s human partner. 

“Did you leave Clyde out here, on the floor, all night?” Joan asked. 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, thoughts racing behind them. His mouth was agape and before he could start chastising himself for carelessly leaving Clyde out all night or blaming Joan for her sending him to bed, she put a light hand on his elbow. 

“He hasn’t been tortoise-napped. He probably got cold and wandered off to a more warmer place.” 

She got down on her hands and knees and started searching for him. 

“We need to look for a warmer spot... like under the sink...” 

Joan crawled towards the ground-level cupboard, the one with the door ajar. She opened it to reveal a small tortoise, sitting peacefully beneath the hot water pipe. 

“That door never closes properly.” 

“Yes. Perhaps Ms. Hudson has some basic carpentry skills,” Sherlock reached in and scooped Clyde up in one hand, pulling him up to his eye-level and examined him carefully. 

“We need to buy him a heat lamp. Your desk drawer isn’t an appropriate spot for a young tortoise.” 

“Our young tortoise,” he corrected loudly, still examining Clyde and not bothering to look at Joan. When he was satisfied that Clyde was indeed alright, Sherlock held Clyde gently between both palms, close to his chest. Clyde wiggled his toes happily. 

“Well, if this crises has ended, I’m going back to bed.”

“Don’t take too long!” Sherlock called after Joan as she headed towards the staircase. “We have an intensive day of study ahead of us!” he carried Clyde back to his desk drawer, placed him inside with a fresh piece of lettuce and began to look for a heat-lamp substitute. 

Joan nodded her understanding and headed back up the stairs. She fixed her pillows and blankets, retrieving them from off the floor and when she laid down, her bed was softer than she ever remembered. 

She woke up an hour later to the sound of nothing and even though that wasn’t a good sign in her home, she relished the opportunity to stretch and be alone for a few minutes. Rolling over, she found a steaming cup of hot tea on her bedside table with a small card beside it. The card had the foot print of a tiny tortoise in red ink and in Sherlock’s handwriting the message read: ‘Thank you for retrieving me.’

Joan smiled and sipped her tea in silence, seconds before she heard Sherlock calling for her from downstairs: 

“Watson! When you come down, bring your copy of _Practical Lock Picking: A Physical Penetration Tester’s Training Guide_ and our lesson will begin!” 

This time, he sounded perfectly calm, or as calm as he could sound. 

She got up quickly, retrieved her book, and joined him.

**Author's Note:**

> The book mentioned in this work is a real title, available on amazon.com. 
> 
> Beta thanks to serenitymeimei.


End file.
